Fight to the Death or Fight for the Heart?
by Ruby Pen
Summary: "I volunteer!" I shouted. I had known that I would seal my fate in the Hunger Games by saying those two simple words, and yet I said them anyway. I knew what to expect: the arrival, the interviews, the testing, and ulitmately the arena. But what I hadn't expected, was to fall in love with my worst enemy and strongest competitor. Cato/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this is Genie. I won't be doing the same funny commentary that I usually do because this is a serious story and if I put that humor in it, it might detract away from the suspense and drama I hope to correctly write. Nevertheless, I will be popping in on occasion and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on my first Hunger Games story.**

Chapter 1

My eyes flashed open, ridding the reoccurring nightmare from my vision. Coarse, white sheets are wrapped around my ankles from my constant thrashing. The same nightmare that had been plaguing me for years off and on usually came around this time of year. Or, more specifically, the day, because today was the day of the reaping.

I propped myself up on one elbow, shoving my tangled auburn hair from my face. My cheeks were flushed and sweaty from the dream that still ran through my mind. There's enough light to see the tiny bedroom I sleep in. My small, worn out bed is pushed nearly flush with the wall while the small table beside my bed holds the only thing I treasure: a photo of me, my father, and brother. It's been four years since my family was whole.

A soft meow stirs me from my thoughts. I turned to look for the source and saw a muddy yellow shape sitting in my window. Buttercup, Prim's horrendous looking cat. He looked up at me with his rotten squash colored eyes. He's missing at least half of one ear and his nose looks like it was smashed in repeatedly with a piece of wood, but Prim loves him to death anyway. How she can love a creature that ugly and mean is beyond me. Numerous times I've tried to befriend him (and Katniss tried to drown him on at least one occasion) and Buttercup just has it in his head that he hates me. Yet he stills hops into my house like he and I are best friends.

I kicked the covers off of my feet before sliding out of bed. I quickly yanked on dark brown trousers, a lighter brown shirt and I threw my hair up in a messy knot at the back of my head. After throwing on a pair of old hand-me-down hunting boots from Katniss, I gave myself a once over and realized that I had started mimicking her style. I grabbed my hunting knives out from under my bed and shoved them in the sheaths on my waist. Thankfully, they were hidden from view by my long shirt. I grabbed the remaining three apples that I traded as many squirrels for, shoving them in my small satchel as I went, and stepped out into the cool morning air.

I live directly in the middle of District 12's Seam. Usually, coal miners are heading out at this time to start their morning shift. Once men and women turn eighteen, they're put to work. Most of them spend their lives in and out of the coal mines, growing older with hunched backs and perpetual black dust under their fingernails and in their hair. Their faces, lined with pain and toil, make them seem much older than they really are. But today, the roads are bare. The weathered grey shutters are closed tightly, as if they're trying to hide from the inevitable. The reaping wasn't until two. Only a handful of hours before two families are torn apart.

Just outside of District 12 is a large field. It's nothing special, just some really tall grass and a few sparse bushes. But that's before you get to the forest. The woods are filled with all types of game: squirrels, any and all birds, the occasional deer, and if you're really lucky, a wild boar. But I haven't seen one of those since before my father died. Separating the woods from District 12 is a large chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. It's supposed to electrified twenty-four hours a day, supposedly deterring the more vicious animals: bears, cougars and wild dogs, but usually it's off. Sometimes it'll run for about three hours before its shut off again. But still, after getting shocked once because I was cocky, I stopped assuming. The only reason I wasn't fried to a cinder was because the electricity had been shut off for a few minutes, but there was an underlying current that had yet to fully dissipate.

The tell-tale hum of a live fence was non-existent. I dropped onto my stomach and slid under a stretch of fence that's been loose for years, hovering off of the ground by at least two feet. After sliding fully past the fence, I yanked my bag over to my side, and then took off running into the trees. Running in the woods makes me feel alive. To feel the wind whipping by, dodging the low hanging branches, leaping over fallen trees, it's paradise for me in my little piece of hell.

I remember being a little girl, running after my father's long strides as he went to grab his new kill. He may not have been a very good hunter with the bow and arrow like Katniss' father, but he was deadly with anything that had a blade. I saw him more than once throw a small dagger at a squirrel running in a tree above our heads only to have the squirrel land on the ground dead a second later with the knife in its chest.

All of that stopped one winter when I was 13. Katniss' father had just died a few months previous in a mine explosion and my father and I were working even harder trying to help their family and ours. It started out with a simple cough he developed after hunting in the snow for hours one day. I fed him the warm quail soup I had been cooking and he went to bed shortly after. The next day, he was worse. The coughing turned into hacking and wheezing, and his head was hot. I tried my best to help him. I fed him, I kept him warm, I called for Katniss' mother who was the District's healer, but he just didn't get better. The last time I saw him alive, he was smiling at me just before he fell asleep. I checked on him the next morning, and he wasn't breathing, his heart wasn't beating, and his skin was ice cold.

I shook my head of the memories, focusing on the present. My eyes locked on a turkey, pecking at the ground not twenty feet from my current position. I slowly unsheathed my knife and gripped it in my dominant hand. I raised my left arm, to throw, when I heard a familiar voice boom out behind me.

"Hey, Raincloud!"

I lowered my knife in slight annoyance as one of my best friends scared away the wild bird. "Gale, you owe me a turkey." I turned to grin at him. My name is Ryna, but when I first met him, I was extremely moody, usually very mad. So, in his mind, I was like a rain cloud: dark and angry.

Katniss popped up behind him, holding her father's old bow and arrows, smiling. The only time she really shows any emotion is when she's alone or when she's in the woods; finally free.

We sat down in our little thicket of blackberry bushes overlooking a valley when Gale held up an arrow.

"Look what I shot." A loaf of fresh bakery bread was skewered on the tip. His corny joke earned a laugh from both Katniss and me. Katniss slipped the bread off of the arrow and broke it into pieces for each of us. Fresh bread like this is nothing like the dense, tough, flat loaves we make from grain rations.

"Mm, it's still warm." Katniss sighs, inhaling the aroma of the bread. I took my piece and broke off a little nibble. I suppressed a moan. It was delicious.

"What did it cost you?" I asked.

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning." Gale said. "Even wished me luck."

"Now is he wishing you good luck that you won't be chosen or bad luck so it won't be one of his?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Gale grinned cheekily at me. "I don't think he's sure."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we? Prim left us a cheese." Katniss says as she pulls out the goat cheese. Gale's face brightens while my mouth waters.

"Thank you, Prim! We'll have a real feast." Gale cheers.

I reached into my bag and pull out the three apples. "It's not a feast without fresh fruits." I tossed each of them an apple.

Gale takes a large bite out of the apple with a loud crunch and a large goofy grin. "I almost forgot!" He says, adopting the ridiculous Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket. A freakishly upbeat woman, who comes down once a year to sentence- I mean, read out the names of the two tributes at the reaping. "Happy Hunger Games!" He plucked off a few of the blackberries from the bushes, tossing a few at us. "And may the odds-"

Katniss caught at least one while most of the rest just bounced off of my cheeks. "-be _ever_ in your favor!" She and I finish simultaneously with equal enthusiasm. We constantly joke about it because to do otherwise would make us scared stiff. Besides, anything said in the Capitol accent is hilarious anyway. You could probably hand out the punishment for someone's crime, say it in that accent, and they might accept the punishment while laughing their heads off.

Gale spread the goat cheese across the top of the bread slices and tops each with a single basil leaf. I took a bite of the bread and cheese. This time, I didn't quiet the moan that escaped my lips. The warm bread was melting the goat cheese, letting it seep into the dough. The apple was sweet and crisp while the berries were tart.

"We could do it, you know." Gale's voice interrupts my obsessive thoughts on the food.

"What?" Katniss asked.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. We could make it, all three of us."

"And we'd be running for the rest of our lives, trying not to be spotted by any of the Capitol's hovercrafts." I remarked, wiping a bit of berry juice from the corner of my mouth.

"If we didn't have so many kids, it'd be easier." Gale commented. He was referring to his and Katniss' family. He had two younger brothers and one sister while Katniss had Prim. They also had to think of their mothers that they provided for as well. I had no one to look after except myself. I have had no real family since I was nine when my brother was killed.

"I never want to have kids." Katniss said.

"I might. If I didn't live here." Gale responded.

I had never given much thought to having children. The idea was so foreign to me. Me? A mother? I stayed silent.

"But you do." Katniss snapped, irritated.

"Forget it." Gale snapped back.

The cheerful mocking of the Capitol, long forgotten. This wasn't the first time Gale had brought up leaving District 12. Actually, it was a pretty frequent conversation between the two of us. He usually kept stuff like this away from Katniss, knowing her propensity to be a pessimist.

I studied the harsh stances that Gale and Katniss adopted. Both had hunched shoulders, and both had identical scowls marring their faces. If I hadn't known any better, I'd say they were related. They both had straight black hair, the same olive skin tone, even the same startling gray eyes. But what really made them seem related was their tempers and stubbornness.

"What do you want to do?" Katniss asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"We could go fishing at the lake." I suggested, wiping the last bread crumbs off of my lap.

Gale nods in agreement. "We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight."

Tonight after the reaping most people would be celebrating that their family would remain whole for another year. But while they were out having a good time, two families would be locking themselves in, shutters closed as they hoped that their child would come back to them in the next several weeks.

By late morning we had gotten a pretty good haul. The three of us had managed to get a bag of greens, a dozen and a half fish, and a gallon of bright red strawberries from a patch Katniss and I discovered a few years ago.

On the way home, Katniss and gale decided to swing by the Hob. It's the black market of District 12 that operates out of an abandoned warehouse that once held coal. The Hob gradually took over the warehouse after a more efficient method for transporting coal came about. Most businesses are closed on reaping day, but the Hob is in full swing.

I waved good-bye to Katniss and Gale, heading off on my own. I began thinking about their chances of being in the Hunger Games, which were very high. You become eligible to enter the Hunger Games at the age of twelve when your name is put in once. Each year until you're eighteen, your name gets added an extra time. But see, here's the catch. If you're poor and starving to death, you can have your name added an extra time for tessera, a meager year's supply of oil and grain for one person. Katniss, Gale and I have each signed up for tessera to help each other. My name is in seventeen times, Katniss' twenty, and Gale's forty-two.

I sigh and shake my head. I feel bad for all families that have had a son or daughter taken away from them because of these games. I lost my brother to the Hunger Games. The boy from District 3 in the sixty-seventh annual Hunger Games bludgeoned my brother over the head with a rock before slicing his neck with a hunting knife. I was nine; he was seventeen.

Once at home, I get dressed in appropriate clothing for the reaping. I pull out a simple dress that my mother once wore. It's mainly white but with a few yellow flowers along the bottom. After pulling on a pair of nice white shoes, I take my hair out of its knot and put it up in a simple braid, a hairstyle that I've come to enjoy thanks to Katniss. I looked myself over in the only mirror in my house. My auburn hair is pulled back from my lightly tanned, heart shaped face. My almond shaped green eyes stare back at me. I've been told that I'm the spitting image of my mother, but I wouldn't know. She died giving birth to me and my father only had one picture of her- or so he said- but I've never been able to find it.

I closed my front door behind me before walking down the street to Katniss' house. Each of the houses looked alike in the Seam. All of them short, squatty houses with dull gray as the only color. Broken or breaking shutters framed each of the cracked and dirty windows.

I knocked on the front door lightly. The smiling face of Primrose Everdeen was beaming up at me as she opened the door.

"Ryna!" She squealed, enveloped me in a tight hug around my waist.

"Hey, Rosie!" I ruffled her hair. She poked her tongue out at me when I used my old nickname for her. "Where's Katniss?" I asked as she closed the door behind me.

"Mom's putting up her hair." Prim answered. "Did you get the cheese I gave you?"

"Yes, Katniss shared it with Gale and me. We all really loved it." I said just as Katniss walked in wearing a simple blue dress.

She gave me one of her half smiles before looking down at Prim. "Tuck you tail in, little duck." She said, fixing Prim's blouse that had come undone in the back.

Prim giggled. "Quack."

"Quack yourself." Katniss replied with a laugh. She only laughs like that because of Prim. "Come on, let's eat." She said, kissing the top of Prim's head.

We ate a small meal of rough tessera grain bread and goat milk from Prim's goat, Lady. The meal wasn't very filling, but we weren't very hungry anyway.

At one o'clock, we all head out to the town square for the reaping. Attendance is mandatory unless you are dying. And I mean that you are a literal breath away from dying. If you don't show up, you'll be imprisoned.

Sadly, they hold the reaping in the square. It's one of the few (legal) places in District 12 that's actually a bit pleasant. It's surrounded by shops that are usually bursting with life, but today, despite all of the cheerful banners hanging off of the buildings, there's a daunting feeling looming over all of us.

People are herded in silently and signed in. Twelve through eighteen-year-olds are corralled into roped off areas marked off in age groups. The oldest are in the front while the younger ones, including Prim, were in the back. Family members and anxious friends filled every remaining space left in the square. Most were holding each other in some way: holding hands, hugging, or arms draped across shoulders, but there were plenty of others who didn't care and were taking bets on the two kids who would be forced to participate in the games.

Katniss gave Prim a last comforting hug before joining me in the sixteen-year-olds, most from the Seam. We all nodded at each other politely, but anxiously as we turned out attention to the temporary stage. Three chairs, a podium where Effie Trinket would stand, and two glass ball holding slips of paper with the names of all eligible boys and girls. The ball holding the girls' names catches my attention. Seventeen slips of paper have Ryna Gallin written on them. Twenty have Katniss Everdeen. Our chances weren't looking good. Two of the chairs are soon occupied with Mayor Undersee and Effie Trinket who looked fairly scary with pink tinted blonde hair, a blindingly green suit and an overly cheerful, obviously fake smile.

The clock strikes two with a loud chime and the mayor steps up to the podium to read the same story that he does every year. It's the history of Panem, the country that rose up when the previous country called North America fell. He lists all of the disasters that took place: droughts, fires, earthquakes, wind storms and so many more. He reads about the brutal war that was fought for the little remaining sustenance. Thus, Panem was born. A shining Capitol surrounded by thirteen districts that brought about peace. Then there were the Dark Days. The districts rebelled against the Capitol and lost. Twelve of the districts were defeated, one destroyed. A Treaty of Treason was signed giving us new laws to "guarantee" peace. Our yearly reminder of the Dark Days and how they should never be repeated was the Hunger Games.

The rules are simple. One boy and one girl from each of the twelve districts, called tributes, were sent to the Capitol to participate in the Hunger Game usually against their will, but occasionally there would be volunteers. The twenty-four tributes are forced into an outdoor arena and imprisoned in there for weeks where they're forced to fight to the death. The last tribute alive is the winner.

Forcing us to watch as our children are forced to murder each other in a wild fight to the death for televised "entertainment" is just the Capitol's cruel way of reminding us how much power they truly hold over us.

The Capitol uses this story to convey a very obvious message: Look at what we can do. We can take your children, force them to kill each other and there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop us. If you try, you'll meet an even worse fate than District 13. To make things even worse, the Capitol makes every district treat it like it's a holiday where it's a simple sport to pit all districts against each other in a duel to the death. As a prize to the last tribute alive (besides living through the Hunger Games) their district is showered with gifts and an abundance of food for a year. All year, the Capitol showers that district with grains and oils and even rarities like sugar and other sweets while the other eleven districts continue starving.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks." The mayor droned the usual required sentence that we all thought was a load of hooey, but none of us we brave enough to say what we really thought.

He then read the names of all the victors District 12 has had in the last seventy-four years. We've had two. Only one of which was still alive today: Haymitch Abernathy. A loud, easily irritated, middle-aged drunk. Speaking of which, he just stumbled onto the stage, practically falling into the third chair, mumbling unintelligibly to no one in particular. Effie Trinket looked positively repulsed to be anywhere in the same _district_ as him. He attempted to give her a large hug while the crowd politely applauded his appearance. She barely fended him off, standing to her feet.

As the mayor called her up to the podium, she almost ran away from the still mumbling Haymitch, pasting on another overly fake, white smile. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" She chirped. Her pinkish-blonde hair has shifted slightly off center to the right ever since she dodged Haymitch's unwanted bear hug. She starts a small speech of how much an honor it is to be here in District 12, although we all know that's a lie because everyone knows she wishes to be the spokesperson to _any_ other district. I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to be forced near a drunk who has a bad temper and always shows up drunk off his feet.

Gale turned back to us, with the faintest of smiles on his lips. At least this reaping has some entertainment. But, my mind flashes to the glass ball holding the boy's names and I think of how Gale's name is in there forty-two times. The odds may not be in his favor, but if he isn't chosen, he never has to worry about going into the Hunger Games ever again. I looked over at Katniss and knew she must be thinking the same thing. Gale turned back to the stage just as Effie Trinket crossed over to the ball with the girls' names.

"Ladies first!" She reached a carefully manicured hand into the ball and rooted around for a second before pulling out a single piece of paper. The whole crowd is on the edge of their seats as she opens the folded slip. I close my eyes, hoping that it isn't me or Katniss.

I listened to the sound of Effie's heels clacking against the stage as she walked back to the podium. She opens her mouth, and says the one name I would've never thought to hear.

"Primrose Everdeen!" Her voice calls out over the crowd and my eyes snap open.

**That's it for chapter one! Just so everyone knows: Ryna's name is pronounced like Rain-a. This story will follow the books mostly and not the movie, but once the Hunger Game start, it severely deviates from canon and I hope you all enjoy it. Please leave honest feedback and I look forward to reading all your comments!**


	2. Chapter 2

"No," I found myself whispering in horror as Prim's name was called. I turned around and saw her face devoid of color.

My mind instantly flashed back to my brother's reaping and I remembered how I was unable to stop him from going.

Effie had pulled out the slip of paper with the boy tribute's name and walked back to the podium. She opened the slip of white paper and read out the name.

"Lidan Gallin!"

It felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped on top of me as my world came crashing down. I could see that his slightly tanned face had gone pale and his green eyes widen as he began walking forward.

I screamed his name, thrashing wildly against my father's strong arms. His broad, strong arms locked me in place as my brother neared the stage, but it was difficult to see him through the tears obscuring my vision. Eventually, I managed to squirm enough for my father to break his hold on me then I surged forward, shouting, "Lidan!"

The crowd had parted around me, giving me sympathetic looks as I sprinted past them. Lidan turned around and caught me in a strong hug. I could tell he was crying because of the way his body shook around me.

"I love you. Please don't go!" I sobbed into his shirt, fisting it in my hands.

"I love you, Ryna. I'll come back," he whispered into my hair just before the Peacekeepers pulled us apart.

I kicked, I screamed, I sobbed, I broke as I was carried away from my brother. He was ushered up the steps by another Peacekeeper.

He never came back, and my little family was ripped apart.

I was brought back to the present when I felt Prim's hand brush my own as she walked slowly towards the daunting stage. Her face was devoid of color, her little hands were fisted at her sides, and the back of her little blouse had come undone again; back into the little ducktail.

"Prim," Katniss' voice said in a strangled cry. She pushed past me, attempting to get to her little sister. The crowd parted around Katniss, giving her a wide berth.

I regained control over my previously frozen legs and willed them forward. Then, I was running. I ran through the crowd, elbowing my way through, not bothering to apologize as I stomped on feet or elbowed ribs. All that mattered was reaching Katniss and Prim; I couldn't let their family be torn apart like mine was.

I reached them just as Katniss pushed Prim behind her with a desperate, frantic look on her face.

"I volunteer!" I shouted, stepping in front of both of them. "I volunteer as tribute!"

A deathly silence settled over the crowd as confusion erupted on stage.

District 12 hasn't had a volunteer in decades, so protocol has become all but forgotten. The rule is that once a tribute's name has been drawn, another eligible person of the same gender may volunteer to take their place in the Hunger Games. In some of the richer districts like District 1 or 2, having your name drawn is a tremendous honor, and others will practically fight each other to be the first to volunteer.

But here, in District 12, the word _volunteer_ basically means _corpse_, and volunteers are almost nonexistent.

"Lovely!" trills Effie Trinket. "But I believe there's the small matter of introducing the reaping winner and then asking for volunteers, and if one does come forth then we, um…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"What does it matter?" asked the Mayor. His expression was tight and pained as it usually was during the annual reaping. He hated seeing children being led off to slaughter as much as the rest of us did. "What does it matter? Let her come forward."

I took a step forward, only to be stopped by Katniss' voice.

"No, I volunteer!" She shouted, running forward till she was in front of me.

"I'm sorry, but we can only accept the first volunteer." Effie Trinket said remorsefully, looking down at Katniss.

"Katniss," I placed my hand on her shoulder. "Prim needs you."

Katniss nodded, biting back tears so she could appear strong for her little sister. Prim, who I just now noticed was wrapped around my legs, was sobbing into my skirt. Gale stepped forward, giving me a quick hug.

"Go on up, Raincloud," He said in a thick, emotional voice just before he pries Prim off of me, taking her back into the crowd.

"Well, bravo!" Effie Trinket gushed. "That's the spirit of the Games!" I could tell that she was just happy to have some excitement to distract the nation's viewers from Haymitch's earlier drunken bear hug. "What's your name?"

"Ryna Gallin," I answered almost stiffly. I was fighting a losing battle against my tears.

"Why would you volunteer for young Primrose Everdeen?" Effie Trinket asked, a genuine look of curiosity adorning her brightly colored face.

"Because, no twelve-year-old should _ever_ have to compete in the Hunger Games, and I love her as if she were my own sister."

"Well, let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!" Effie Trinket chirped.

Not one resident of District 12 clapped; not even the ones holding the betting pools. Instead, of me acknowledging applause –the usual custom of tributes- I stood stiff and unmoving as my district took part in the boldest and most dangerous form of dissent they could: total silence.

The silence said more than their furious, rebellious shouts ever could. We do not agree, we do not condone, this is all wrong.

Then, one by one, the members of District 12 touched the three middle fingers of their left hands to their lips before holding it out to me. It was a very old salute of our district that was normally used in funerals. It means thank you, it means admiration, most of all, it means good-bye to someone that was loved dearly. Tears threaten to spill as I stared at the crowd.

Haymitch, the lovely drunkard he is, chose this time to wobble across the stage. Going dangerously close to the edge, but righting himself at the last second. He threw his heavy arm across my shoulders, nearly sending me to the ground.

"I like her!" Haymitch shouted, his alcoholic breath fanning in my face. "Lots of…" He paused, clearly searching his drunken mind for the correct word."Spunk!" he laughed triumphantly. "More than you!" He lifted his arm from my shoulders and staggered forward, closer to the edge of the stage. If he gets any closer, he's going to fall off of the stage. "More than you!" He shouted, pointing a finger directly into the camera, or at least he tried to. His aim was off and he was pointing a bit too far to the left.

Was it just me, or was he purposely taunting the Capitol? No, he must just be too drunk to realize what he's doing. Not even Haymitch drunk off his feet would be stupid enough to taunt the Capitol. He opened his mouth to continue, but just as the first syllable leaves his mouth, he tumbles off of the stage, landing on his head. He's out cold.

Told ya he was going to fall.

Haymitch was carried away on a stretcher as Effie Trinket tried to get the ball rolling again. "What an exciting day!" she warbled, attempting to straighten her wig that had all but fallen off. "But more excitement to come! It's time to choose our boy tribute!" She clamped a hand onto her askew hair as she trotted over to the ball that contained the boy names. She grabbed the first slip on the top of the pile and zipped back over to the podium. I had just enough time to wish for Gale's name to be passed over when Effie spoke.

"Zane Demine!"

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding as a stocky, boy with light brown hair walked towards the podium. His pale green eyes were hard and determined, shielded from view by a layer of bangs. He took his place beside me, staring directly into the camera lens.

Effie Trinket asked the crowd for volunteers, but no one steps forward to take his place. Not even his own family did anything to stop him. Devotion only runs so deep when it comes to the reaping, and what I did was unorthodox.

Mayor Undersee began the long, boring Treaty of Treason as he does every year after the tributes are drawn. It's mandatory that he read it ever year as a reminder of why we are at the mercy of the Capitol.

I sneaked glances at Zane as we stood silent "listening" to the important speech.

I haven't really said much to him, but I remember when I first met him. It was the day Katniss was receiving the medal for her father's service and honorable death in the mines. I went along for moral support and to be a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. A few other children were there accepting medals with tears running down their cheeks, wishing they could trade everything for their loved one. Zane was there, getting one for his mother along with his two younger sisters and older brother. I remember how he refused to cry, staying strong for his family at such a young age. After that, I saw him around school, living out his life in the same rut we all did, just carrying on.

The mayor finished the ridiculously long and dull Treaty of Treason, and then motioned for Zane and me to shake hands. His are firm and warm as opposed to my cold, clammy hands that were practically shaking from fear.

As soon as the anthem ends, Zane and I are taken into custody. No, we weren't arrested and put in handcuffs, but a group of intimidating Peacekeepers usher us through the front doors of the Justice Building. I have no idea why we need six guards. Maybe they're afraid that at the first sign of an opening, we'll bolt and try to escape into the woods. Actually, that doesn't sound too bad right now…

Once inside, I was shoved into a room and left completely alone. It was the most lavish room I had ever been in, with thick, fluffy carpets that you just wanted to scrunch your toes in, and velvet chairs and couch. I dropped ungracefully onto the couch and ran my fingers lightly over the smooth fabric.

'_I wonder how long I'll survive.'_ I pondered just before the door opened revealing Katniss, Prim and Mrs. Everdeen.

Prim ran forward, wrapping her tiny arms around my torso. "Why?" She whispered, sobbing into my dress.

"Because I couldn't let you go, Rosie," I said equally as quiet, hugging her tightly as if I were about to break.

"Ryna, you shouldn't have done that," Katniss said. I could see the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. "I was going to volunteer first and take her place."

"I couldn't let you. Prim and your mother need you. And what about Gale? What would happen to him if you were put in the Games? What if you _died_?!" I was hysterical at this moment, but no tears fell. "I couldn't let your family be torn apart like…" I couldn't finish, but I didn't need to.

"Like yours was," Katniss finished. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and around Prim, enveloping us all in a tight hug.

"Promise me you'll come back, Ryna." Prim's soft voice pleaded.

"Rosie, I won't lie to you. The chances of me winning are very slim, but I need you to promise me something." I waited for her nod before continuing. "I might not come back, but don't stay hung up on my death like I was hung up on Lidan's." I pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'll try to come back to you." Prim has to know that my chances of coming back are slim to none. There are other tributes that are easily triple my weight and can probably lift that much if not more. Boys that are bulked up and tall, willing to do anything to win. Girls that are deadly who know over a dozen creative ways to slice my head from my shoulders.

"But, if I did come back, we'd be rich like Haymitch, but no drinking allowed." I attempted a joke.

"I don't care about money, just return in once piece and breathing," Katniss could hear the resolve in my voice. "Don't you dare roll over and give them an easy kill. Fight! Fight for yourself, fight for us. Swear to me that'll you will."

"I swear on my life that I will fight with everything within me to get back to you." No sooner had the words left my lips; the Peacekeeper was at the door, signaling for my guests to leave. They walked to the door, but Katniss stopped, turning back to me.

"Wear this into the Capitol and the arena." She pushed a small golden pin into my palm before turning back to her family. The door closed behind them with a quiet click.

I looked down at the pin in my hand before fastening it to my dress. It was two birds joined at the wing, surrounded by a thin ring. One was larger, holding an arrow while the smaller one held a daisy.

I was still admiring the pin when the door opened a second time. It was Gale. He said absolutely nothing as he crossed the room in three long strides. His strong arms wrapped me in a warm, comforting hug as I felt his body shudder with silent sobs. I inhaled the familiar musk that was entirely his own: wood smoke and fresh grass mixed with his natural body scent.

"I'm scared," I admitted quietly, my hands fisting in his grey shirt, a few tears escaped the corner of my eyes.

"I know, Ryna." It was one of the few times he actually called me by my given name instead of Raincloud. "Listen, your best chance is to get a weapon and run away from the Cornucopia. It's going to be a bloodbath and I don't want to see you die on the first day. Grab any weapon you can, but a knife is your best bet."

"Then what? I don't know how to survive when I've got 23 people hell-bent on killing me in my sleep."

"Just find shelter, fresh water, and then hide." Gale's voice is thick as he tried to give me advice.

"I don't know if I can kill anyone."

"Ryna, it's just hunting. You're one of the best hunters I know," said Gale.

"It's not just hunting. They're armed, thinking, dangerous humans. They'll be thinking battle strategies."

"Then you do that, too! Damn it, Ryna I can't lose you!" Gale kissed my forehead, then my cheeks. "You're my little Raindrop." His deep grey eyes are swimming with tears.

All too soon, the Peacekeepers are back. Gale begged for more time, but they began taking him from me. His warm hand begins slipping from mine. "I'll come back!" I cried.

"Ryna, always remember I —"whatever he was about to say was cut off as we were ripped apart; the door slammed between us. I've never hated the Peacekeepers before, but I loathed them for cutting off that last sentence. Now I'll never know what Gale wanted me to remember.

For the remainder of my time in the room, I laid across the couch, sobbing my eyes and heart out.

It was a very short ride form the Justice Building to the train station. During that time, I cleared my face. I wiped the tear streaks from my cheeks, dried my eyes and put on an emotionless mask.

The station is swarming with reporters and their hornet like cameras hovering over the scene from every possible angle. I caught a glimpse of myself in the television screen on the wall and I appeared cool and collected, which I was anything but.

Zane Demine obviously had been crying because his eyes are rimmed with red, but the strange thing was, he wasn't trying to hide this fact at all. He stood strong and proud, but still kept an appearance of humility. I idly wondered if this was going to be his strategy in the Hunger Games. To appear like a weak and easy target, reassuring the stronger tributes that he is no real threat, and then come out fighting. It was a similar strategy used by a girl from District 7. Johanna Mason seemed like such a sniveling, cowardly little girl that had no chance of winning. No one bothered with her until there were only a handful of tributes left. She turned out to be a vicious killer when she had to be and ended up winning the Hunger Games for her district that year. It seemed like an odd strategy for Zane who is fairly muscular and tall. But, maybe if he can pull of the strong, but "can't harm a fly" routine, he may have a shot at winning.

We stood for a few minutes in the doorway of the train, letting the cameras get shots of us from every angle, then we were allowed inside and the doors slid shut behind us, obscuring us from view. The train began zipping along almost immediately.

The speed throws me for a loop once we actually get going. I've never been in any type of vehicle before today, as travel between districts is forbidden unless it is officially authorized by the Capitol, such as the victor's parade or transporting coal. But this isn't your ordinary coal train. It's one of the newest Capitol models that can average out at about 250 miles per hour. At this speed, we'll be at the Capitol in less than a day.

The tribute train is fancier than the rooms in the Justice Building, which was truly saying something. We were each given our own suites that have a bedroom, a private dressing area, and a luxurious private bathroom with hot and cold taps. In District 12, you don't have hot water unless you boil it yourself.

There are large drawers filled to the brim with fancy clothes of all sorts, and Effie Trinket said that I could do anything I pleased. I could wear whatever I wanted; eat whatever I wanted because everything was at my disposal. The only thing that was a rule was that I had to be at dinner in an hour. I stripped myself of my white dress and took my first shower. It felt absolutely wonderful! The hot water beating down into my scalp and ridding my body of oils and dirt left me with an extremely pleasant clean feeling.

I dressed in a form fitting red shirt and a pair of black pants. Just before I left my room, I remembered the little golden pin that Katniss had given me. I unclasped it from my dress and got a good look at it. The birds, which I had previously thought to be blue jays, were actually mockingjays.

Mockingjays are an accidental product of the Capitol thanks to their creation of the jabberjays. During the rebellion, the Capitol created the jabberjays to spy on their enemies. The funny thing about these little birds was that they could memorize and repeat whole human conversations. Jabberjays, that were exclusively male, were honing birds. After they had gathered the conversations, they'd fly back to the Capitol and spill every dirty secret they overheard. It took the rebellion awhile to realize what was happening, but when they did, it came back to bite the Capitol in the butt. The rebel fed these birds nothing but lies to send back to the Capitol, then the joke was on them. The centers were quickly shut down and the remaining birds were released into the wild.

The Capitol planned on them just dying off, but they didn't. Instead, the jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds and created a new species: the mockingjay. They can't imitate human speech, but they can repeat both bird calls and simple melodies. Mockingjays created some of the most beautiful music I have ever heard. They actually created songs, not just a few notes. If they liked your voice and if you were patient with them, they would sing your song back to you.

I remember Katniss' father and my father signing to the mockingjays. Katniss' father could sing like no one else I've heard. The whole forest would go silent when he sang, then it would repeat it back in the most harmonic natural melody you have ever heard. My father on the other hand, sounded absolutely horrible and would usually end up frightening off most living things, but I enjoyed hearing his off-key voice, because he could always put a smile on my face when he sang.

I fastened the pin onto the left side of my shirt just above my heart. Somehow, it just feels right to place it there, like I'm keeping my family close at hand.

Effie came a little while later to collect me for supper. I followed her down a narrow corridor into an elegant dining room while polished, paneled walls and a table full of fragile, expensive china. I could see that Zane was already waiting at the table patiently, but Haymitch was nowhere in sight.

I sat down in the available seat across from Zane as Effie Trinket takes her seat to my left at the other end of the table.

"Where's Haymitch?" She asked pleasantly, putting on a bright, still fake looking smile.

"Last I saw, he was headed to his room for a nap," Zane answered.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie sighed. I think she's just happy that Haymitch isn't here to grace us with his presence. Who can blame her? Every year, she has to go through with this and get saddled with the lazy drunk for days at a time.

Supper came to us in courses. Thick carrot stew, a fresh green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes with butter, exotic cheeses and fine fruits, and a rich, chocolate cake. At every course when Zane and I were gorging ourselves, Effie Trinket would order us to stop eating so much because more was on the way. But, I couldn't bring myself to slow down. IO had _never_ had food as rich and delicious as this. Besides, putting on some weight before the Games would probably be a good idea.

"At least you two have manners," Effie Trinket sniffed as we were finishing up the main course. "Last year's pair ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion!"

The pair of District 12 tributes last year were from the Seam and had never had enough food to fill their constantly growling stomachs. Of course manners would go out the window if you had never had a full stomach.

"It's not like it was their fault!" I defended. "If you had never eaten enough to satisfy you, wouldn't you forget the knife and fork and just _eat_?" I threw down my silverware and at the rest of my diner with my bare hands, completely ignoring the stunned and appalled Capitol woman beside me.

Once dinner is finished, I began having a hard time keeping it down. I looked over at Zane and saw that he was in the same predicament as I was. Neither one of us were used to such rich food. I can hang on to squirrel meat that's been roasted or smoked quail, so I am determined to keep down the rich Capitol food.

We headed over to the next compartment over to watch the recap of the reapings from around Panem. They try to stagger them across the day so that everyone could watch each of the reapings "live", but we all know that only the citizens of the Capitol can do that since they do not have to attend the reapings themselves.

One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, the volunteers stepping forward, or most commonly, not. A few of the faces stand out in my mind as they flicker across the screen. A tall, menacing boy from District 2 that volunteered immediately, a fox-faced girl with flaming red hair from District 5, A crippled boy from 10, and the little twelve year old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she reminds me too much of Prim. I waited on the edge of my seat for her volunteer, but none step forward. I ended up having to look away from the screen because the realization hits me then.

That could've been Prim. What if Katniss and I had taken Gale up on his offer and fled into the woods. What would've happened to our little Rosie? Most likely no one would've taken her place and she would've been forced to compete for her life.

Last of all, they show District 12. Prim's name was called, Katniss running forward, me running ahead of them and volunteering, Katniss attempting to take my place. You can't miss the sorrow in her voice or on her face when Effie tells her that she can't volunteer for me. I watched as Gale pulled her and Katniss away from me and I watch myself mount the stage with watery eyes, but a stern face. The commentators were unsure of what to say about District 12's refusal to applaud. One said that District 12 has always been a bit backwards, but the local customs were charming. Then, as if on cue, Haymitch tumbled off the stage, knocking himself out. The commentators groaned comically. Zane's name was drawn, he quietly took his place on the stage beside me, and we shook hands. The anthem played and the program ended, leaving a tense silence behind it.

Effie Trinket let out a disgruntled comment about how her wig was out of place. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

I let out an unladylike snort. "He's drunk. He's _always_ drunk."

"Every day," Zane chimed in. We both smirked a bit at Effie Trinket. She keeps trying to make it out like Haymitch just has a few bad behavior issues that could use smoothing out.

"Yes," Effie hissed. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advices you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!"

Haymitch chose that exact moment to come staggering into the compartment, completely drunk as usual. "I miss supper?" He asked in a very slurred voice. Then he vomited all over the expensive, thick carpet and fell into the mess.

"So laugh away!" Effie Trinket said, giving us a withering stare. She hopped around the pool pf vomit and fled from the room, leaving Zane and I completely alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**I noticed that I forgot the disclaimer in the previous chapter, and seeing as I would hate getting sued for just messing around with the characters, I am fixing that now.**

**I do not own any portion of the Hunger Games (no matter how much I may wish I did). I simply mess around with the fine characters owned by the fabulous author Suzanne Collins.**

**But Ryna Gallin, Zane Demine, and whatever other characters I make up are completely my own!**

After a few moments of Zane and I staring at Haymitch, both of us trying to figure out how to get the other to clean this up, Haymitch started trying to rise up out of the pool of disgusting unmentionables. The stench of vomit and liquor nearly made me lose my dinner, and Zane didn't appear to be too far off himself. As much as I hated to admit it, Effie was right. Haymitch is all we've got once we're in the arena. He'll be our only lifeline to sponsors who might actually want to see at least one of us live. Zane and I shared a glance before each grabbing one of Haymitch's arms and hauling him to his feet.

"I tripped?" Haymitch asked, barely conscious. "Smells bad," He wiped a hand across his face, smearing it even more with the vomit. Ugh! How anyone could want to be so intoxicated to where they don't even recognize the world around them is beyond me.

"C'mon, you alcoholic dead weight." I groaned using all of my upper body strength to keep him on his feet. "Let's get you cleaned up a bit."

Zane and I half dragged, half walked Haymitch to his room where we promptly dropped him off in the bathroom and turned the shower on him. We didn't even bother undressing him at first. We just let the shower spray off most of the bile. Haymitch hardly noticed a thing.

I reached for the bar of soap, when a lightly tanned hand gently grabbed my wrist, stopping me. "Don't worry about this. I'll clean him up," Zane said quietly.

Relief and gratitude washed over me and at the same time I felt a bit bad for leaving him alone with Haymitch. "Are you sure? I could still help."

Zane shook his head, smiling at me. "I've got this, Ryna. If you really want to help, then just pick out an outfit for me to help him into once he's clean." Before I left the bathroom, I gave Zane a quick hug.

"Thank you," I whispered then left the room without another sound.

It took me only a few moments to pick out a pair of dark blue pants, a light blue short -sleeved shirt, and regrettably, a pair of black boxer shorts. I placed the items on the bed before rushing out. Haymitch without clothing is probably the _last_ thing I ever want to see.

By the time I reached my room, the train was pausing at a platform to refuel. I opened the large window in my room and took a deep breath of fresh air. This was probably going to be the last time I really got fresh air. No more long quiet days in the woods with Gale and Katniss, no more helping Prim and her mother with medical remedies, no more of the house my brother and I grew up in, no more trading at the Hob, no more District 12.

Tears begin leaking from the corner of my eyes at my betraying thoughts. Even in my horribly poor home of District 12, I still felt loved. I had Katniss, Gale, Prim, and even evil Buttercup as my family. But, here in the Capitol, I never will.

Suddenly, I was furious. Why _me_?! Why did my family have to die? If it weren't for the Capitol, at least my brother would still be alive. Hell, he could've prevented my father from going into the woods so often and in turn, would've had a greater likelihood of living.

I picked up one of the expensive vases on top of my bedside table, and chunked it across the room. It collided into the wall with a satisfying CRASH! Bits of porcelain lined the carpet, and I smirked at the broken shards. The next three vases suffered the same fate.

I was about to throw a fine, expensive looking teapot, when there was a stern knock on my door.

"Come in!" I shouted, throwing the teapot just as Effie Trinket walked in. Her eyes raked over the scene of the shattered pottery and china, and then flashed to me. I swear they looked pitch black for a moment.

"_What _on this green earth do you think you're _doing_?!" She shrieked, her face beginning to turn pink.

"Well, I think I'm reducing the Capitol's supply of expensive and useless décor. What do you think I'm doing?" I asked sarcastically, picking up one of the teapot's matching plates.

Effie's left eye twitched as the plate crashed into the wall. "Ryna, you really shouldn't be breaking stuff like that," She forced a tight smile to appear on her face. "How would you like it of the Capitol came into your house and started breaking things?"

I rounded on her, glaring daggers. "They already did!" I spat.

"I'm…sorry?" Effie questioned. She looked completely clueless.

"The Capitol already broke something in my house," I didn't bother waiting for her to ask what was broken. "My _family_ was broken thanks to your precious Capitol! If it weren't for you and your stupid Hunger Games, my brother would still be _alive_!" With that, I threw the rest of the tea set. I watched the pieces clatter to the ground with tears stinging my eyes.

"Your brother…? Wait, wasn't you're brother a tribute about five years ago?" Effie Trinket asked, stepping gingerly over the broken shards littering my floor.

"Seven. Yeah, he was. Lidan Halt Gallin was his name," I sniffled loudly. "Y'know, I was the little girl who was screaming and fighting the Peacekeepers." I dropped ungracefully onto the edge of my bed. Effie hovered over me. For a long while she just stood there awkwardly, but thankfully she broke the silence.

"Ryna… If I might say something?" Effie Trinket asked. "I do remember your brother; he had a lot of determination and strength. One day, Haymitch was in his usual drunken stupor and started making very crass comments about the tributes. '_Give up. You're never going back to your district._' he had said. Your brother got very angry at him for saying such a thing and ordered him to…how exactly did he put it? Ah he said: _'Shut your shit spewing mouth.'_"

I cracked up, hearing Effie Trinket mimic my brother cussing in her ridiculous Capitol accent. "Sounds like Lidan alright. He was never afraid to say exactly what was on his mind."

"I didn't know him for very long, but I got that impression. But after Lidan said that, Haymitch laughed and told your brother to forget about ever seeing his precious little sister ever again. You brother threw Haymitch's alcohol bottle across the room and began attacking him violently. It didn't last very long but, Haymitch sported quite a few large bruises all over his face." Effie looked over at the clock on the wall. "My, is it that late already? Well, I should be getting to bed now. Busy day tomorrow!" Effie chirped, walking towards the door. She stepped daintily over the shattered wreckage before turning back to me. "He fought for you, you know," She said before closing the door behind her with a near silent click.

I thought back to my home in District 12 and the family I left behind. Was it really this morning that Gale proposed that we go disappear into the forest? It seems like some dream that's morphed into a horrible nightmare.

I peeled off my shirt and pants then pulled on a bright red, oversized short sleeve shirt before climbing into the thick covers of my bed. The warmth wrapped around me like a cocoon of silk. Crying seemed like a wonderful idea right now, but I was too tired and too numb to cry. Tomorrow, all of Panem will be watching with rapt attention as the tributes arrive in the Capitol. My eyelids feel heavy with fatigue. The constant, gentle rocking of the train lulls me to sleep.

I was roused from my sleep by a loud, incessant rapping on my door. "Up, up, up!"Effie Trinket's voice shouted through the door. "It's going to be a big, big, big day!" What must it be like to spend a day in her head? What thoughts flitter through her mind? What dreams come to her at night? Probably anything from being promoted to District 1 to having to keep the alcohol hidden from Haymitch.

After stealing a few extra minutes on bed, I reluctantly climbed out of the warm sheets. With a shock, I noticed that all of the glass had been cleaned from the floor. Not one shard was left on the dark brown carpet. Suddenly, I felt really bad about creating a large, unnecessary mess for someone else to clean.

After a quick shower, I changed into another long sleeve shirt and black pants, but this time, the shirt is a dark blue. I clasped my little mockingjay pin to my shirt and headed out to breakfast.

Just as I entered the dining car, Effie Trinket brushed past me, holding a cup of black coffee. She was muttering obscenities under her breath. Haymitch, who was red faced from yesterdays over indulgence in liquor, was chuckling while Zane looked down, seeming embarrassed.

"Sit down! Sit down!" said Haymitch, waving me over to the table. The moment I was settle into the overly plush chair, I was served an enormous platter of delicious looking food. Eggs, fried potatoes, ham, sausages. A tureen of fresh fruit sat in a bucket of ice to keep chilled. The basket of rolls on the table would've fed Katniss' family and at least half of Gale's for a week. A tall glass of orange juice was set before me. I have never tasted oranges before. I took a hesitant sip and found the enjoyable sweet tartness flooded my tongue. Zane was drinking some brown drink that looked similar to coffee, but not quite as thin.

"It's called hot chocolate," explained Zane when he saw my curious look. "It's really good."

I took a sip of the hot, sweet, creamy liquid and moaned quietly. It was by far the best thing I had ever tasted. My stomach still growled for actual food, but I didn't stop drinking until every last drop of the hot chocolate had disappeared. Then, I began stuffing as much food into me as I could. I avoided the extremely rich foods, not wanting to end up losing it later.

Once my stomach feels like it's been stuffed to the point of bursting, I leaned back in my seat and take a good look at my breakfast companions. Zane has just finished eating the last bite of his roll that had been dipped in the hot chocolate. Haymitch, however, hasn't looked up from his drink since I sat down. It's some sort of red juice that he keeps thinning out with some sort of clear liquid from an alcohol bottle. I don't know Haymitch very well, but I've seen him stumbling around the Hob before, throwing bags of money at the woman who sells liquor. Occasionally, I've seen her pause and debate whether or not she should give him the alcohol, but one look at the sack of coins seals her judgment. If she didn't sell it to him, he'd find someone else who would. Taking a look at the juice/spirits concoction and I know he'll be incoherent before we reach the Capitol.

I realized then and there that I can't stand Haymitch. No wonder District 12hasn't had any victors since him. It wasn't just because lack of a proper diet and physical strength, it was because Haymitch was too damned lazy and drunk off his feet to help. Did he even help Lidan or did he just leave him to die?

"So, aren't you supposed to help us? Give advice?" I asked, trying to reign in my ignited temper.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive," said Haymitch, then he burst out into a mad laughing fit. I glanced over at Zane and saw that he hated Haymitch just about as much as I did at that moment.

"Zane, isn't that funny?" I laughed sarcastically. I growled and knocked the glass out of Haymitch's hand and into the wall. The glass shattered, sending the bright red liquid across the once pristine white carpet. "No, it isn't."

Haymitch stared at the drink seeping into the carpet, then looked back at me. He stood up, and raised a meaty fist ready to punch me, but at the last second, Zane shoved me back and took the punch himself. His head snapped back violently and an angry bruise already began forming. Haymitch turned back to the bottle of spirits, ready to fill up another glass. I grabbed my knife and threw it into the table, just between his fingers. He carefully pulled his hand back and squinted at us.

"Well, what's this?" Haymitch asked. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" Up until this point, I had been lenient towards Haymitch and his behavior. But this comment tipped the scale.

"_This _year?! Well, what about the tributes from seven years ago? I know that the boy was a fighter, but you were just too drunk off your ass to help him! Ever think that if you just _tried_ to help your District, you might actually get a victor!" I snatched up his spirits and sent them sailing into the wall like his previous drink.

Haymitch leaned in close, studying me. "Why would you care about tributes from nearly a decade ago?" His breath was horrendous enough to nearly make me gag, but I held my ground and glared up at him.

"Because that tribute, who kicked your sorry, drunken ass, was my brother," I stepped forward until we were nose to nose. "I doubt you did a damn thing to help him get back home. Ever stop to think that the kids you're just letting go off and die, have families?"

Haymitch just stood there scratching is scruffy chin. "I can tell that you were related," he said at last. "You have the same temper and fight he did." Haymitch looked down at the knife imbedded in the table. "Can you hit anything besides a table with that knife?"

I realized that if I wanted Haymitch's help, now was the time to get his attention. I jerked the knife out of the table then scooped up three others from the other placemats. I got a good grip on the knife, aimed, then threw it nearly hilt deep into the wall. I had honestly just hoped for it to stick into the wall, but I was pleasantly surprised when it lodged itself between two of the panels lining the wall. I threw the remaining knives around the room, each getting an even better mark than the one before. The second knife I threw sailed through one of the crystal glasses on the table and lodged itself in the table. The third sliced a tall candle vertically in half and landed in the next one. The fourth, however, was the most spectacular. It flew out of my hand, soared through the air, and landed directly in the center of the eye of a stuffed boar head that was mounted on a wall farthest from me.

I turned back to Haymitch. A stunned look was painted across his face. "Stand over there. Both of you," he said, nodding to the middle of the room. Zane and I obeyed, letting Haymitch circle us like a vulture. He checked our posture, our muscles, and our expressions. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

Zane and I don't bother trying to question this. The Hunger Games aren't a beauty contest, but the best-looking tributes always seem to pull the most sponsors.

"Alright, I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking, and I'll stay sober enough to help you," Haymitch said. "But you have to do exactly what I say."

"Uh, try again. How about this: don't drink and you won't find a knife between your legs in the morning," I countered. Haymitch visibly paled a few shades.

"Deal."

"So, help us," Zane said. "When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone-"

"One thing at a time. In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put into the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. Hell, you might even hate it, but no matter what it is, don't resist them," said Haymitch.

"But-"I began to say.

"No buts. Don't resist," said Haymitch. He leaned over to take the spirits, but I gave him a warning look. He pulled his hand back and quickly left the car. As the door swung shut behind him, the car went dark. There are a few dim lights inside, but outside it's as if night has fallen again. I realized that we must be in the tunnel that runs up through the mountains and directly into the Capitol. The mountains form a natural barrier between the Capitol and the eastern districts. It's almost impossible to enter from the east except through the tunnels. This geographical advantage was a major factor in the districts losing the war that led to the death of all the tributes. Since the rebels had to scale the sides of the mountains, they were easy targets for the Capitol's air forces to pick off.

Zane Demine and I stood in total silence as the train sped along through the tunnel. The tunnel goes on and on and I think of the tons of rock over my head, separating me from the surface. Is this how all of the miners before they died, trapped under all of the stone? My stomach lurched making it difficult keeping a hold on my breakfast.

The train finally began to slow and suddenly bright light floods the compartment, temporarily blinding me. Zane and I rush to the window to see what we've only seen on the dingy televisions of District 12: the Capitol, the ruling city of Panem and our personal hellhole for the next few months. The cameras lied about the grandeur. If anything, they have not quite captured the magnificence of the glistening buildings in a rainbow of hues that tower into the air, the shiny cars that roll lazily down the wide, paved streets, the oddly dressed people with brightly colored hair and painted faces. Some of them had even dyed their bodies ridiculous colors such as green or orange. All of the colors seem artificial and annoying. The pinks were too bright, the greens too rich, the yellows painful to even look at for more than a few seconds.

The people began pointing at us eagerly because they recognized a tribute train when they saw one. I stepped away from the window, disgusted with the inhabitants of the Capitol. They treat us like celebrities, but send us out to slaughter like animals. Zane followed my example a few seconds later.

Zane and I might not have much in common, but one thing we did know was that at least one of us was going to die and the people currently cheering for us just outside, were looking forward to seeing it.

**Okay, guys, I have to say that I am really disappointed in the lack of reviews. I got ZERO for the last chapter that I worked really hard on. I will continue writing, but feedback makes me post faster! Please, please, please, please review! 3**


	4. Chapter 4

"Ouch!" I hissed as Venia, a flamboyant woman with aqua hair and gold tattoos on her forhead, tore off a strip of cloth from my leg, yanking out every hair beneath. "Sorry!" she trilled in the same riddiculous accent all Capitol people had. "You're just so hairy!"

I fought the urge to laugh whenever she spoke because their accents were just so absurd. They always spoke in a much higher pitch than necessary, their words were clipped so the ending of each word sounded like a little yip. I often wondered if certain animals could understand them. All thought of laughing was stopped when Venia ripped yet another cloth from my leg.

**Hello, my lovely faithful readers! I just want to say something before we get to the story: YOU HAD BETTER LIKE THIS CHAPTER! **

**Haha! Just kidding!**

**But I would like to give a shoutout to my best friend, Michaela! Without her, this chapter would not be nearly as good as I want it to be. And I will also give a shoutout to my wonderful sis, Andi because without her pressuring me to get this done, it probably would've been another month.**

**Anyways, on with the story!**

**I do not own any portion on the Hunger Games except what I add in.**

"Ouch!" I hissed as Venia, a flamboyant woman with aqua hair and gold tattoos on her forhead, tore off a strip of cloth from my leg, yanking out every hair beneath. "Sorry!" she trilled in the same riddiculous accent all Capitol people had. "You're just so hairy!"

I fought the urge to laugh whenever she spoke because their accents were just so absurd. They always spoke in a much higher pitch than necessary, their words were clipped so the ending of each word sounded like a little yip. I often wondered if certain animals could understand them. All thought of laughing was stopped when Venia ripped yet another cloth from my leg.

Venia made a face that I suppose was supposed to be apologetic or sympathetic, but really, it only looked like she had been sucking on a lemon. "Good news, though! This is the last one. Ready?" I tightened my grip on edges of the table I was sitting on before giving a curt nod. With a loud rip the final piece of fabric covering my leg was stripped away, along with any remaining hairs. A burning sting covered every part of my body where hair used to be.

I've been in the Remake Canter, swarmed by my prep team for at least three hours. I'm sure I've been in here longer, but I've pretty much given up on keeping track of time. All of this time in here, and I still haven't seen my stylist because I've been told he has no interest in seeing me until I've been properly groomed. So far, I'm not too impressed with my stylist because he seems exactly like Effie Trinket and all other people in the Capitol: arrogant, prim and proper, and doesn't give a damn about the districts.

Here I am, letting my prep team take care of any and all flaws they see which includes: my skin that they have scrubbed down twice with a disgusting gritty foam that I swear pulled off several layers of skin, my nails that they have filed into symetrical shapes then shined, my hair which they have brushed, washed, conditioned, and then combed again, and now, all of the hair on my body has been stripped away, leaving me feel naked...which I almost was.

But through all of this, I've mananged to keep up my end of the bargain with Haymitch and never complained about what my prep team has done, though I have let a few yelps of discomfort slip. "You're doing very well," said Flavius. He twirled a lock of his bright orange corkscrews with one hand and applied a fresh coat of purple lipstick to himself with the other. "If there's one thing we can't stand, it's a whiner. Grease her down!" he ordered with a sharp snap of his fingers.

Venia and Octaiva, a rather plump woman whose entire body, as far as I could see, was dyed a horible shade of pea green, began to rub me down with a slimy feeling lotion that first burned then soothed my irritated skin. Haymtich was right; I don't like anything they've done to me so far.

After the lotion was applied, I was yanked up from the table and my thin robe- the only thing covering me- was stripped away. I stood there completely devoid of clothing as Venia, Flavius, and Octavia circled around me, weilding tweezers to remove any stray hairs that they missed. The longer I stood there, the brighter my face turned. At one point, I tried to cover myself up with my hands, but Venia slapped them down.

After what felt like an eternity, they stopped and stepped back to see the results of their hard work. "Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" exclaimed Flavius.

A slightly awkward smile crept up onto my face. "Thank you," I said gratefully. "There's not much cause to dress up in District 12, and when there is it's usually for a wedding or funeral." From the emotional looks on their faces, I think I've won them over.

"Of course, you don't, you poor darling!" Octavia sighed dramatically, clasping her hands in distress. I don't know whether the cause for her distress was that I never dess up or if it was because she was imagining what life must be like where you don't put on pounds of make up or color your skin or your hair every day.

"But don't worry," said Venia. "By the time Cinna is through with you, you're going to be absolutely gorgeous!"

"We promise! You know, now that we've gotten rid of all the hair and filth, you'e not horrible at all!" chirped Flavius encouragingly. "Let's call Cinna!"

As the rushed from the room, I chuckled quietly to myself at their total lack of brains. My prep team was a small group of colorful, dramatic, idiots, but you couldn't hate them because in their own unique way, they were trying to help. I looked around the room for the first time since I arrived and it was a fairly plain room. The walls were shiny and silver, the floor was simple white tile and there were two doors. I spotted my light green robe in a small heap on the floor with the rest of the clothing that I had been wearing earlier. I scooped up the robe and threw it on over my bare body, thankful that it covered down to the bottom of my thigh.

I ran a hand through my hair- a nervous habit I had developed- and I was still astounded by how smooth it felt. Ususally, it resembled a bird's nest because it stuck up or because I hadn't washed it in several days. But after at least 30 minutes of my prep team wrestling with the thick mass, it was now soft, smooth and it fell down my back in soft curls. The texture of it was completely foreign, but not unwelcome.

My hand fell from my hair when the door opened, revealing a young man with caramel colored skin and at least two earrings in each ear.

This must be Cinna.

I was shocked to see how normal he appeared. His hair was closely cropped and seemed to be it's natural shade of dark brown, his clothing was a pair of black pants and a simple black button up shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. I studied his face, trying to find something there that resembled the artificial looks of the Capitol, but there were no false color contacts covering his hazel eyes nor was he wearing any form of makeup other than a little bit of gold eyeliner. Surely, he isn't from the Capitol. And if he is, why does he look so normal?

"Hello, Ryna. I'm Cinna, your stylist," he said in a quiet voice that seemed somewhat lacking in the Capitol's riddiculous accent.

Suddenly, I felt insecure and shy around him. It was one thing to be mostly or entirely naked in front of my prep team because they hardly seemed like humans at all and it was easier to imagine them as large, brightly colored birds. But being around Cinna who looked so normal wasn't so easy.

"H-hello," I said quietly, barely above a whisper.

"Could you please remove your robe for me?" he asked politely. I looked down and quickly shook my head, refusing to meet his gaze. "Why not?" He didn't sound mad or even a little irritated. In fact, he just sounded curious and patient.

I...can't," I said, still looking at the floor like it was the most facinating thing ever. "I don't like how I look at all and on top of that, being completely naked in front of a total stranger doesn't seem too pleasing either."

"Ryna, you have nothing to be nervous about," Cinna said, using his index finger to tilt my chin up. "I won't touch, but I do need to look and see what I'm working with."

I knew he was right. This is what all tributes went through and all I was doing was prolonging the inevitable. With trembling fingers, I untied the sash that was cinching the robe shut, but as soon as it slipped form my shoulders, I covered myself up with my hands as best as I could, which wasn't very well at all. My eyes were shut tight as if not seeing this would make it go away.

"You don't need to cover yourself up, Ryna. You're beautiful," Cinna said, looking not at my body, but at my eyes. Somehow, his words comforted me; I relaxed enough to drop my hands, but not enough to relax my body, which was as stiff as a board. "Just give me a moment to look you over, okay?" I nodded slowly then kept my eyes set forward on a crack in the wall. Cinna walked around me slowly, taking in every inch of my body. After a minute or two, he came to a stop diectly in front of me.

"See, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" he asked, picking up my robe off the floor. He held it out for me. I grabbed it and slid it on with a smile that I hope conveyed my gratitude.

"Are you new? I don't think I've seen you before," Most stylists stay year after year, continuing to dress up their tributes in spectacular costumes, but there are some that do it for a few years, then step down so someone else may take their place. Some stylists have been there for as long as I can remember.

"Yes, this is my first year in the Games," said Cinna.

"Let me guess: you're the new guy, so they stuck you with the worst possible district so they wouldn't have to waste one of the older stylists on us." Newcomers almost always get the poorest dirstricts: 10, 11, and 12.

"I asked for District 12," he said, offereing up no additional information. "Now, it's time for lunch and a chat."

I followed him through the second door which led to a spectacular sitting room. Plush, red couches faced each other over a mahogany coffee table. The decorations in the room were minimal: a few potted plants, red spots painted on the three white walls and a few throw pillows. But what really captured my attention, was the fourth wall, which was made entirely of glass, over looking the skyline of the Capitol. I turned my attention back to Cinna, who motioned for me to take the seat opposite of him. Once I sat down, he pressed a little black button on the side of the coffee table. The middle of the table split open, revealing a second tabletop holding our lunch on a silver tray.

Grilled chicken with fresh chunks of orange sat on a platter of sticky white rice. Green peas, seared onions, and rolls shaped like roses were the sides and a honey colored pudding was set aside for dessert. Looking at the tray of rich foods made me furious.

While the thin, hard working people of my district starved to death or worked their fingers to the bone to feed their loved ones, the colorful idiots of the Capitol fattened themselves up on rich foods at the push of a few buttons. In District 12, hours are spent hunting, gathering, or working. But here, those same hours are spent dressing up, eating, or cheering for children to fight to the death for their own disgusting entertainment.

I looked away from the tray to see Cinna's hazel eyes trained on me. "How despicable we must seem to you," he said thoughtfully. Had he been able to tell what I was thinking by studying my face for a few seconds?

"Yes, I think the people of the Capitol are despicable and disgusting excuses of life. You gorge yourselves on food, and you sit around, cheering for children to die. Those childen have families! Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and you just snatch them away!" I growled. "So far, you are the only one I haven't found a reason to dislike."

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't be able to voice my thoughts without fear of being overheard by Peacekeepers, but these aren't normal circumstances. I'm basically sentenced to death. What are they going to do?

Cinna just sat there, staring at me as I voiced my negative views of his people. After a few more seconds of him looking at me, he spoke. "Well, while I'd love to listen to your views on the Capitol, that's not why we're here. We're here to dicuss your costume for the opening ceremonies," he said politely. "My partner, Portia, is the stylist for your District partner, Zane. And out current thoughts is to dress you in complimenting costumes. As you know, it's customary to reflect the flavor of the district."

It's traditon that the tributes are dressed in outfits that represent their district's principle industry. District 11, agriculture. District 4, fishing. District 3, factories. But coming from 12, Zane and I are going to be outiftted in something that has to deal with coal. Usually it's a skimpy outfit with a headlamp because coal miner jumpsuits aren't very attractive, but one year, our tributes were stark naked with only a sprinkling of coal dust to cove them.

"So, will we be dressed as miners?" I ventured. I hoped with everything within me, that I wasn't going out there naked.

"Not exactly. You see, Portia and I think that the coal miner thing is very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And we both see it as our job to make you two as unforgettable as possible," said Cinna.

_"If I have to go out there naked, I'm probably going to find the quickest way to kill Cinna." _I thought.

"So rather than focus on the coal mining itself, we're going to focus on the coal," he said, gauging my reaction. I kept my face neutral.

_"Yep, he's gonna make he go out there naked. I wonder if there's a knife around here..."_

"Ryna, do you know what happens to coal when under extreme heat and pressure?" I shook my head, now curious. "It turns into diamonds," Cinna said with a grin.

Diamonds? Did I hear him correctly?

"Are you afraid of fire?" Cinna asked, and his little grin grew into a radiant smile.

Several hours later I was dressed in what was either going to be a beautiful costume, or a really really dangerous one. Cinna has put me in a skin tight, black suit with shin high black leather boots. He has my hair styled in one long, french braid down my back with a simple silver tiara placed on top of my head. His plan is to set my suit on fire and let the black layer of the suit peel away as it burns. Simple enough, right?

"It's not real fire, Ryna," Cinna reminded me when he saw how rigid I had become. "It's designed to burn away the black fabric _only_. Portia and I came up with it. you'll be perfectly safe." I'm was not worried about the flames burning me; I was worried about them burning away all of the cloth instead of just the black layer.

"And you're both sure it'll only burn the black and leave the silver?" I questioned.

Cinna laughed at my nervousness. "Yes, Ryna. I promise. The two fabrics are entirely different. One is flammable, the other is not. You aren't going to burn, nor will you be naked," He readjusted my braid, careful not to smudge my makeup. My face had been dusted with a reflective powder, making it glow with a pale light, my lips had a light coat of pink lipgloss, and I had blueish-grey eyeshadow covering my eyelids. "I want the audience to be able to recognize you in the arena," He said dreamily,"Our Diamond in the Rough."

I gave him an odd look. On the outside, he may appear normal, but on the inside, he was a barely functioning lunatic that's going to set fire to me so he can live out this fantasy he has in his head.

Lucky me.

Just as I came to this realization, I noticed Zane strolling up to us, dressed in an identical outfit as mine, but instead of a tiara, his head was adorned with a regal, silver crown. His prep team followed him around like ducklings trailing after their mother. Portia was the only one of the entire group that actually looked relaxed.

Before I had time to even greet him, we were whisked away, down to the bottom level of the Remake Center, which just looks like a huge stable. The ceremonies were about to start. Each of the tributes were being loaded into their chariots pulled by four horses. Thankfully, the horses are so well trained that they don't even need to be guided at all.

Cinna and Portia helped Zane and me into our chariot, then began fussing over wrinkled clothing or stray hairs. I let my eyes wander around to look at the other tributes. The kids from 11 wore forest green formal wear with actual leaves and flowers sewn onto them. District 4 wore tan and blue suits that had fishing nets draped over their costumes. But the group from District 2 is what caught my attention.

They were adorned in golden gladiator armor with gold, winged helmets and long purple capes that reached the backs of their knees. Both of them were absolutely stunning, but the blue-eyed boy from 2 held my attention a bit more than the rest of the tributes.

Once Cinna and Portia stopped fussing over me and and Zane, they broke off and decided to consult amongst themselves.

"Am I the only ones who think they're completely insane?" I asked Zane, jerking a thumb toward our stylists.

"No, I _know_ that they've lost it. What are they thinking? Setting us on fire?"

"When we promised Haymitch that we'd go along with everything they said, but I don't think he realizes that we were given complete lunatics that want to set us on fire to bun off out clothes in front of the whole world!"

Zane looked around the compound. "Where is Haymitch anyway? Isn't he supposed to be here keeping ou stylists in check?"

"Do you really think that Haymitch needs to be around us when we're on fire? He might stumble and fall right into us," I rolled my eyes.

Just as Zane opened his mouth to speak again, the opening music began to play. It was impossible to miss thanks to the hundreds of speakers set up around the Capitol.

Two massive doors swung open, giving us our first look of the crowd-lined streets. The whole ride lasts about 20 minutes, ending in the middle of the City Circle where people will cheer, subject us to a long speech and Panem's anthom, then we will be escorted to our prison until the Games.

Once the silver spray painted and bedazzled tributes of District 1 were seen by the citizens of the Capitol, the crowd went nuts. Their district supplied luxury items for the Capitol, so they were always favorites.

The District 2 chariot took it's place behind District 1 and I stopped myself, yet again, from staring at the boy from 2. As the parade went on, Zane and I eventually found ourselves lined up in front of the large doors just as the chariot for 11 rolled out.

Cinna approached us with a lit torch and held it out to us. "Remember, you outfits will burn for a few minutes after they're lit, but the flames will go out on their own," before I had time to object or question him, he touched the torch to my costume and I shut my eyes quickly. I waited for the painful burning of the fire on my skin, but instead, I just felt a tickling warmth rushing across my skin. I looked at Zane and saw that his suit was on fire. He looked dazzling.

"It works," whispered Cinna with a giddy smile plastered across his face. "Heads high, smiles. They're going to love you!"

That's the last thing I heard before the roar of the crowd drowned him out and we were driven into the city. The crowd went wild for us, chanting "District 12!" Every eye was trained on us as we rode through the city, not the careers. At first, I was frozen with stage fright, but I saw Zane and myself on a large televsion screen, and my jaw nearly dropped open. Rather than looking riddiculous, we were breathtaking. You could clearly see the flames licking at our skin, but never getting close enough to do damage.

Then, the black began to peel away.

Little bits of shiny, black fabric fluttered behind us, like ashes. Each little one that flew away, revealed more and more iridescent silver underneath. Once all of the black had fluttered away, Zane and I were left standing in a skin tight, silver suit that glittered with various shades of blue and purple.

We were diamonds.

I put on my brightest smile and waved to the crowd as the last few flames on my outfit went out. I was still disgusted with all of them, but showing a grimace or scowl was not a way to get sponsors. There I was, winking and blowing kisses to them. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard the cowd's chanting switch from "District 12!" to "Ryna!"

On an impulse, I reached down, grabbed Zane's hand in mine and hoisted our hands above our heads for the world to see. My little act of rebellion to the Capitol said that even if he and I were supposed to be enemies in the arena, we were still going to be friends until then.

At the end of the parade, our horses stopped the chariot beside the other eleven in the City Circle. Every window of the surounding buildings was filled with prestigious and affluental people. I noticed that we were parked by President Snow's mansion.

President Snow is a small, thin man with pure white hair. I loathe him with every fiber of my being much like the rest of the world, but unlike the rest of the world, I have often thought of all the different ways I would kill him if I ever got close enough.

The president began the officical welcoming speech that he gives every year from a balcony far above our heads. It's customary for the camera crews to hone in on the faces of the tributes during the speech, but I could tell that District 12 was getting more than it's fair share of air time.

Once the speech was concluded, the anthem played over the speakers and we were driven around the City Circle one last time. I rasied up my hand with Zane's to the crowd just as the doors of the Training Center slammed shut behind us.

I had barely stepped off of the chariot when I was swarmed by my prep team. I understood absolutely nothing of their congratualtory babble. I looked around the Training Center and saw that most of the other tributes were staring at us with undisguised hatred and envy. The boy from 2 was staring only at me. His icy blue eyes were locked with mine and his expression was unreadable. We kept staring at each other until I had to sever the connection when Cinna called my name. He was beaming brilliantly. I rushed foward and engulfed him in a large hug.

"Thank you, Cinna," I said.

Cinna laughed and returned my hug. "My pleasure. You were absolutely beautiful out there. They're never going to forget the Diamond in the Rough," then he leaned forward and added in a whisper, "I know I won't."

**OK! This was an exceptionally hard chapter to write because at one point I was nearly finished with it when my computer crashed and deleted everything I had typed. But now it's up for your viewing pleasure.**

**And the first 3 people to review get a shoutout in the next chapter!**

**Bye!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Just wanted to let y'all know that I am _THIS _close t finishing the next chapter. I got a job and it's been stressful, but I love it.**

**I am posting this under my hunger games story and my psych one because I am almost finished with both, but since I had ADD, it's hard for me to focus on one story at a time.  
**

**Just stick with me and I'll see you soon!**

**Genie XX**

**Oh, I have my own page now at StarCrossedHanyou with 1 story up as well. It's an Inuyasha one if you're interested. Once my hunger games and [sych stories are finished, anything else I post will be over there.**

**Love you guys!**


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